We learned this morning some sad news: our golden retriever, who we adopted as a stray in January, has malignant lymphoma. We're not sure what the prognosis is other than bad. It could take weeks, or months, or years. At the moment, she's not in any pain as far as we can tell: and while we can easily keep her comfortable and happy, we will do so. But it's not the sort of thing where we can really do very much more than that, which means we will have a few difficult times in the foreseeable future.
At the moment, she still seems playful and energetic, running for balls, and jumping on the counter to try to grab food (I wish she'd stop that part!) and we're hoping this will continue as long as possible.
Yours, saddened,
N.
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